


The Fox and the Hound

by RakishAngle (afterdinnerminx)



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Animal Metaphors, Eventual Smut, F/M, First Time, Fluff, Undercover as Married
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-27
Updated: 2015-09-27
Packaged: 2018-04-23 17:45:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4885909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afterdinnerminx/pseuds/RakishAngle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some Sunday Phrack.  Phryne Fisher and Jack Robinson take a small holiday to brush up on some undercover skills.  They meet a fox and a hound with a story similar to their own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Fox and the Hound

They spied the little copper fox sneaking up to the chicken coop. She stopped and sniffed into the air, exposing her silvered chest. Her tail patted at the air and she ducked her head low again. Her foot was poised as if she was waiting for something.

Around the corner of the chicken coop was a medium sized brown dog. Handsome fellow. He was frozen and looking straight at her. Daring her to come closer.

Phryne's eyes lit up. She was working out how the fox might actually get into the chicken coop to get her breakfast. 

"She is a beautiful animal, isn't she?"

"A menace," said meaningfully. The man pursed his lips. He was for the dog.

The fox took her first tentative step, triggering the dog to run at her growling at full speed. The fox turned tail and ran in the other direction.

Mr. Henshaw came over to take their baggage. He saw something on the woman's face - perhaps a spot of worry - "don't worry, dear. Charlie'll never hurt 'er."

Both animals stopped, him several feet behind her. She glanced over her shoulder, flicked her tail and pranced off into the bushes. The dog stayed put for a few moments then padded back to the chicken coop and lay down.

"I'm sure she'll be back to get what she came for."

"It looks like she was well and truly chased away to me."

"There is a reason they don't call it 'outdogged', darling. She'll be back and she'll get what she came for. I'll bet my hat on it."

"No need to keep all the milliners in Melbourne wealthy, dear."

"How long did you say you have been married, Mr. and Mrs. Tennysen?"

"Too long" they said in unison, amusing each other. "Five years, today," the woman clarified.

The had both tried to come up with reasons that they should visit Mt. Baw Baw in the summertime. He had read an article on the native flowers; she snuck a look at the article when he stepped out of his office. He tried to link a jewelry heist ring to movements of a suspect, but he caught the suspect first. She thought she had an opportunity in capturing evidence on a philandering husband - but he ended up coming clean to his wife. 

In the end, she suggested they could work on both their tracking and (ahem!) undercover skills. He couldn't think of a better excuse on his own. So, he agreed and suggested this location. Both of them complicit in having fooled themselves more than the other. 

Nevertheless, since they were there in a semi-official capacity, there was as little need to tell the matron of their actual relationship status as there was in sharing their real names. 

\--*--

The two detectives were already wearing their walking gear. "Are you up for a small wander, Mrs. Tennysen?" Jack had his new book on alpine flowers tucked under his arm and was looking eager to go. "Lead the way." She had worn her new walking shoes with Mr. Butler's socks of an evening for the past week. She hoped her feet were as invincible as the rest of her.

One half mile away from the house, they saw the dog carrying a rabbit in his mouth. He rested on his haunches and placed the dead rabbit between his paws. He looked into the distance. The fox came out of hiding and paced some distance in front of the hound. The dog didn't move. She paused, ears alert then bounced off her feet again to circle widely around him. Her movements are spritely. A little jump here. A sniff in the air. Her circles get smaller. The dog doesn't move. 

The fox stops five or six feet in front of the dog. Her mouth opens wide for a series of fast, expressive squeaks. She extends her petite snout toward him, allowing her tail to act as ballast should she need to bounce away from him. The dog lowers his chest to the ground, legs extended and raises his wagging tail into the air. She slowly approaches the dog, light on her front feet, heavy on the rear. She takes a single step forward then a few to either side before advancing again. The dog vocalizes, playfully. She strikes to catch the rabbit by the scruff of its neck and she drags it away back to the bush. The dog lowers itself and whines at her absence.

"Jack, did you see that?" She looks over to her walking partner who appeared to be absorbed in his book about flowers. 

Oh, he saw it alright. "Did I see what? Sorry. I was looking at the directions to get to the Alpine Trail. I was hoping to see these ferns. Apparently, they are as tall as we are." 

\--*--

"That little fox that comes by is just the most marvelous thing, Mrs. Henshaw. How did she start visiting?"

"You know, it was the funniest thing. Well, I don't know about funny." Mrs. Henshaw corrected herself as she refilled their drinks. "Charlie came home one day baying and whining like somebody died. He just wouldn't let up on us. He grabbed at my hand and tried to pull me from the kitchen, if you can believe that. Kept it up for thirty minutes. Finally, I'd had enough and I went to go find Mr. Henshaw." She turned her head toward her husband, who was ignoring her with his nose buried unconvincingly in a book. Phryne has a flashback to a moment earlier today. Mrs. Henshaw and Mrs. Tennysen make eye contact at the former's husband. Humph. Men. Mrs. Henshaw gently speaks to the mister, "Didn't I, dear?" He responded with a grunt.

Mrs. Henshaw continued. "We followed Charlie up past the fence, past the field and into a bush. There she was, near a fallen tree. Her leg was stuck in a trap. Charlie started pacing around her and nosing at the trap. Well, Mr. Henshaw had his rifle with him and he was going to put the girl out of her misery. Charlie would have nothing to do with it. Got in front of her. I've never seen that dog do anything like that. Champion sheep dog, no less."

"Daft bugger." Mr. Henshaw chipped in.

"Well, we didn't know what do to. She's a wild animal, ain't she. Stealing our eggs and killing our chickens as well. Anyhow, Mr. Hensaw grabbed her by the scruff of her neck while I got the contraption off 'er foot. Then, there's Charlie who starts licking at her leg. 'E was real upset by it, he was. It didn't appear to be broken and we'd figured that if she was meant to live, she'd be fine back in the wild. So, we let her loose. She scurried away and we thought that would be the end of her."

"Fat chance that was. End of a good dog, I tell ya." Mr. Henshaw grumped, again unconvincingly. One would think he was pleased with the way the story is shaping up.

"A week later, we head to the barn to feed Charlie and we see he's got company. Damn dog is curled up next to that little vixen. Been that way every night since. He shares his food and everything."

"But, Mrs. Henshaw, I saw her try to get into the chicken coop this morning."

"Aach, its a thing they do. Every day, same thing. You should see them in the afternoons in the field. She screeches at him, he howls back. Like they are real discussion about something. Sometimes, you can tell she's giving him a talking to, as well."

The husband speaks up. "Would you say he's tamed her, then?"

Mrs. Hensaw laughs. "No, pet. She'll never be tame. We're just grateful he isn't letting her steal our eggs no more."

\--*--

Jack stands at the curtains of their room, looking out onto the field where the fox has baited the dog again. She has been circling him slowly, looking over her shoulder and flapping her tail at him. The dog is cautious in following her. He takes a few steps forward then she circles back around to get close before she scampers away again. He gives chase. She turns on a pin and runs the other direction. He follows. Both have their tongues lolling out the side of their mouths as they run. Fast as they can. She slows down to let him catch up. He presses his muzzle into her neck. She drops and rolls on her back, legs tucked to her chest. Her mouth attaches lightly to his front paw. He stretches back and lowers himself on his haunches again, this time with paws out. The dog rests his head on his forelegs. The unlikely duo continues resting.

\--*--

Phryne comes out of the bathroom, freshly scrubbed wearing a deep red silk nightgown held up with the skinniest of straps and dipping low to reveal her back. 

She traipses to him. Jack stands frozen. Transfixed. The closer she comes, the slower she moves. 

He holds his hand out, palm up. She takes it.

He bends his head toward her lips. She closes the gap.

He suggests a tongue. She accepts it.

He deepens his kiss. She grabs his hair.

He pulls her closer. She arches into him.

He traces her spine with his fingertips. She slips her fingers underneath his dinner jacket.

He shrugs off his jacket. She undoes his tie.

He unbuttons his waistcoat. She unbuttons his shirt.

He unbuttons his cuffs. She rolls the fabric off of him.

He toes off his shoes. She undoes his waistband.

He lets the rest of his clothes fall away. She snakes her hands down his chest and around to his lower back.

Phryne steps in, causing his erection to slide against her. It is pressed firmly between them now. She gives him her neck to nibble on. He takes her neck and then her collarbone, alternating between soft scrapes of his fingertips and opulent kisses. Her skin is softer than the silk she is wearing. He traces the neckline of her lingerie and sweeps his fingertips over the outline of one pudgy, sensitive circle. Her breath catches at the back of her throat.

He presses into her, the movement of his thighs causing her feet to sweep backward across the carpet until she backs up against the bed. He slides his hands up her legs, using friction to puddle her negligee around her waist. She teeters back to horizontal, pressing her feet against the bed until her head is resting against a pillow. This movement has caused the straps to slide off of her shoulders. She's wearing a thick belt of red covering her waist. Nothing else.

Jack draws his fingers together, the tips making a star. He pulses them softly open and closed to permeate her labia. Softly, gently his hand enters her. Her eyes go wide. This is a lot to take in. His fingers open as he withdraws, like a flower opening inside of her. He presses in again, harder. She groans.

"Jack" she croaks. Pink is creeping across her chest. He takes himself in hand to align with her opening. He sets his elbows at each side of her and rotates his hips in as he pulls himself up. Her legs wrap around his hips as he enters her.

"Phryne" His lips are just above hers. She wraps her arms around his neck and opens to his kiss. His touch pervades her; her walls embrace him. The circles of his hips copy those of her tongue. 

He inhales heavily. She pulls at his hair.

Their bodies undulate in waves started with the arch at the sternum, the collapse of the abdomen, follow-through at the pubis. The swell that follows through feeds back to create a see-saw. Slow and heavy at first. She wraps her arms under his and around his scapulae. His hands prise the mattress to get to her shoulders. 

"Oh, Jack. Yes. Just like that." They follow their instinct to grind into each other more intensely. His face mashes into her neck with a moan. Their perspiration mingles, overcomes any friction across their skin. They slide across each other, frenzied. His compulsion for composure finally overcome.

She feels it first with the tingle at her scalp that travels like a sleeve down her torso. Then it hits her. A throb inside of her, then combustion. He is right there with her. They cry out, muffled and spent into each other. 

\--*--

Phryne is running her fingers through Jack's damp hair. He is nuzzling at her breast and caressing her hip..

"Jack, what were you doing when I came out of the bathroom earlier?"

"Me?" He said, nonchalantly. "I was getting a lesson on how one might treat a vixen."


End file.
